


Thunderbirds Are Go: ‘Bottoms Up’

by countessofsnark



Series: Booze Bros [2]
Category: Thunderbirds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 03:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15379686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countessofsnark/pseuds/countessofsnark
Summary: John? It’s happened again.’‘Again?’‘We’ve got to ask Brains to build a more resilient leash. Maybe built in electrodes are called for.’‘EOS, initiate Operation Sloshed Scott.’





	Thunderbirds Are Go: ‘Bottoms Up’

**Author's Note:**

> _John? It’s happened again.’_
> 
> _‘Again?’_
> 
> _‘We’ve got to ask Brains to build a more resilient leash. Maybe built in electrodes are called for.’_
> 
> _‘EOS, initiate Operation Sloshed Scott.’_

It had taken up to five hours of meticulous scanning for signs of Scott’s whereabouts but if anyone could get the job done, it was EOS. She had managed to locate him in Kansas. He had apparently been running around a field stark naked until he was intercepted by a local granny who had taken him in, given him some hot milk and sent him to bed, wrapped up in a blanket she had crocheted herself. 

Virgil wasted no time flying down there to pick up his brother, who was fast asleep, and had put him in Thunderbird 2’s living quarters to sleep out the rest of the trip home. But instead of taking off again, Virgil sat back and sighed. It had been a long day, and he needed some distraction of the liquid kind. He happened to know a good bar not too far from where Thunderbird 2 is parked. Virgil got up, stretched his aching limbs, and headed over to the living quarters to change into his civvies. Scott would probably not wake up until a few hours from now, so that’s plenty of time to get a nice cold one, he figured. 

Scott rubbed his eyes, muttering a low groan as his brain slowly rebooted after the massive hangover. He threw back the soft crocheted blanket and stared down in confusion at his naked self. A bit of prodding around the spacious bed revealed a neatly folded package of clothes. He got up and got dressed in the dark, stumbling and feeling his way around the room until he reached the light switch. He knew they were not in flight. There were no vibrations from the engines, no movements whatsoever. And Virgl was nowhere to be found. Scott descended and immediately realized where he was. And that meant knowing just where Virgil might be hiding out. He laced up his shoes and headed off towards the edge of the town where he and his brothers had grown up.

The bar was your typical Midwestern watering hole. Country music would meet you as soon as you stepped inside, along with the smell of beer and spicy chicken wings. It was close to 9pm and the place was pretty crowded already. Virgil was sitting right where Scott had predicted to find him – behind the bar, a bottle of beer at his lips, his shirt wide open to reveal a muscular torso, and a spaced out look in his gentle brown eyes. He may or may not have been aware of the hand that was running through his chest hair, or the way his rooster comb had been ruffled out of shape. Or the fact that he was surrounded on both sides by a pair of lovely country girls (complete with knotted plaid shirts and hotpants, and judging by their identical looks they must have been twins) 

Plenty of men out there would not think twice about their options for the night if they found themselves in this kind of situation. But not Virgil. He had a way of ignoring female attention, whether sober or intoxicated, and preferred to deal with carnal urges on his own. 

‘Come on, cowboy. Let’s get you home,’ Scott said, tapping lightly on Virgil’s shoulder while pretending not to notice the deadly stares of his admirers.

‘Scooter! Buddy, you’re awake! Hey listhen… I wash just gonna finish thish beer…’ Virgil slurred before chucking back the dark liquid and slamming the empty bottle down onto the counter. 

Scott slipped an arm around Virgil’s shoulder and helped him walk out. This was way easier said than done – especially when you’re a slender, long-limbed gazelle trying to support 200 pounds of raw muscle.

All the way back to Thunderbird 2, Scott had to put up with Virgil occasionally losing the battle with gravity and direction, unzipping Virgil’s fly to prevent embarrassing accidents, dragging him on after he tried to pet and hug the umpteenth cow they spotted along the road (’You’re my best friend yes you are’), and last but not least, Virgil’s tendency to belt out country songs in that booming voice of his (Scott was sure the entire town had been able to enjoy his brother’s rendition of ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’). 

One thing Scott did have to give him credit for is the fact that he can hold a tune even when completely and utterly drunk.


End file.
